“With the lights out, it’s less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us … ”

— Kurt Cobain, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”



I get eerie shivers of revulsion every time I see a ragged piece of print journalism or a television show devoted to celebrities.

Have we really become a nation of imbecilic mouth-breathers that flood the Internet in hopes of catching a glimpse of the newest famous person’s accidental crotch shot?

Speaking of idiot, when are we just going to put poor Britney out of her misery? She seems to be functioning on Starbucks and laxatives alone and at some point she may mistake her children for the oodles of pills she gobbles daily and wind up eating those poor little guys before Kevin Federline can figure out how to sell them on eBay.

Plus, I think watching Amy Winehouse smoke crack, run around at 2 a.m. in her PJs and get into a bloody fist fight with her recently jailed husband is just making us dumber humans. It’s hilarious that people were up in arms over our government not letting her into the country to perform at the Grammy’s — that’s about the only sound national security decision they’ve made in eight years.

I love seeing these celebutantes try to fight the paparazzi on the sidewalks outside every silly little club in LA. Frankie Muniz of “Malcolm in the Middle” is just a curly-haired little gnome with bug eyes and eight zeros in his bank account.

Can you imagine how hilarious it would be if those vapid fugs were walking down the streets of Encinitas? We would laugh our asses off at these pampered little snots — the homeless mafia behind Angelo’s has more class than Paris Hilton’s entire family could ever dream of.

Granted, I have more empathy for a public toilet than I would for anyone in Hollywood, but I think paparazzi rank just barely above PETA and Hillary Clinton’s tailor.

I’d rather drop a belt sander on my forehead than have my sole means of income revolve around screaming some brain dead actor’s name over and over until he punches me in the face.

The sad part is that we human beings have a morbid fascination with this crap. We just adore watching the rich and famous walk the long and painful path toward oblivion. Putting people on a pedestal is what Hollywood does best. The hard part is staying there. Once you’ve stood above everyone else, it’s a hard pill to swallow when you’re forced to admit to yourself that you’re just like the rest of us.